


Hikari/Light

by Wolfcreations21



Series: Face My Fears [2]
Category: RWBY
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Blood and Injury warning, Companion Piece, Corruption, Creepy Room, F/F, Freeform, How Do I Tag, Insanity, Mind Games, POV Second Person, Ruby Rose (RWBY) Needs a Hug, Ruby needs help, Someone Help Her, after Volume 7, breaking Ruby's will and mind and hope, companion to Face My Fears, emotional torture, let me know of additional tags pls, no beta we die like men, sad gay, sadness and sorrow and tears oh my
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-12
Updated: 2021-03-19
Packaged: 2021-03-20 06:41:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30000828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wolfcreations21/pseuds/Wolfcreations21
Summary: (Companion fic to Face My Fears)Taken by Salem during the attack on Atlas, Ruby is delivered to the devil's realm. Alone, tired, and without a way out; Ruby struggles to keep it together long enough for her team to save her. As the days go by and time becomes meaningless, she finds herself losing her will to continue resisting. This is the process of her inevitable corruption.This is how the light is forever lost to darkness...
Relationships: Ruby Rose/Weiss Schnee
Series: Face My Fears [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2082687
Comments: 14
Kudos: 23





	1. The Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> Heyyyy guys :) As promised, here is the first part of Ruby's corruption that happens in the Face My Fears universe. (If you haven't read that, please do check it out to get more context; if not, enjoy regardless.) The song is KH1's intro (Japanese version), though this does not follow the same lyrical structure that FMF did. It is written in the 2nd person perspective to follow how Ruby's perspectives were written in the other fic. Hope that's okay for you all.  
> As I said, this one is definitely sadder than the last, so strap yourselves in y'all because it gets VERY bumpy. For all of you curious to know what Ruby went through, here ya go. Enjoy :).

The last thing you see before the darkness swallows you whole is Weiss.

Weiss, your partner, looking so _terrified_ \- trying to reach you, running in your direction and completely ignoring all of the dangers surrounding her and only focused on getting to you you you. 

Your name tears from her lips like the cry of an angel losing its wings; and it’s so mournful, so devastated, so stricken with terror it stabs deep within you the way one of the tendrils does, tearing through the skin of your lower back and piercing into your muscles, spilling your blood, and you cry back. (You don’t know whether it’s in reciprocation to Weiss’s shout or because you’re in pain, but either way, it’s earth-shattering.)

It is a song that you two share and it's so ruined it is a masterpiece.

Beautiful blue eyes, eyes that you could look into and find a future that made you want… that made you _want_ like you have never wanted anything before, your own source of hope and strength and safety (and love love love)- eyes spilling with tears like the blood that escapes your body, dropping in rivulets down your sides, staining your clothes and your cloak with a worrying shade they already were. You wouldn’t have realized you were bleeding if it weren’t for the stain you were leaving on the ground, the trail that you try to grab onto like it’ll possibly save you, and your blunt nails chip and one of them rips off completely in your last-ditch effort to resist.

It is the last mark of you in this broken courtyard of Atlas anybody would ever get to see.

The last part of you that _Weiss_ gets to see, and though you are undoubtedly afraid and dreading what’s to come for you… You are more worried about her. About them; your people, your family, your friends. 

What would become of them without you? Would they be okay without your guidance? Without your light?

(Would they be _better_ without you?)

You want to call out for Weiss- because she is your partner and she is always there whether you shout for her or not- but the pain and the shadows have made you mute as another tendril wraps around your throat, your forehead, pulling you back back back, down down down. 

Your feeble whisper of “ _Help_ ” is soundless and you don’t know if Weiss can hear you but in the end-

In the end, it’s too late.

The world vanishes and you are thrown into the darkness.

(Weiss is gone from your view, and so with her does your hope disappear too.)

The night is all around you and it feels like you’re... floating. Your vision is filled with nothing but black and gloom and you wonder if this is what looking into the abyss is like. You’re floating, but that’s not to say you are weightless.

Because something is crushing you, squeezing tighter tighter tighter around every inch of your body, your bones creaking in protest and with the threat to snap and you struggle against what you guess to be restraints of some kind. You can’t break free, the pressure increasing, and it feels a lot like all of your responsibilities have been given physical form and they are trying to break you into a million pieces.

You are a fragile being, so you try to resist, survival instincts telling you to _get away_ from all of this darkness, and an innate sensation within you tugs forward and your eyes begin to burn and you don’t know whether it’s from tears or your light. Either way, you pull the power forward, screaming all the while, the darkness flashing white for an instant.

But what you can dispel is nothing to what’s still there. You don’t even manage to create a dent in the darkness and that feels like failure.

You squeeze your eyes shut, not wanting to admit you’re afraid, not wanting to look into the abyss any longer because it might blink back at you and you can’t. You _c_ _an’t_.

You keep telling yourself to fight, to struggle, to resist and you try- you _swear_ you try your hardest.

It’s not enough.

All at once, the free-floating feeling becomes weighted as you meet solid ground with a heavy _thump_ and you don’t know whether to be grateful for that or be even more terrified of what was to come. Regardless, you’re here now- wherever _here_ was- and you can feel the snakes of shadows slithering off of your form like low-rolling fog. You keep your eyes closed because as long as you don’t open them, this isn’t real.

Right?

“That was easier than I had hoped.”

The voice of the devil rolls down your back like the darkness had and it makes you shiver, your eyes flying open because the thought of Salem being _right there_ while you willingly blinded yourself was _not_ comforting. You lift your head from the ground, making an absentminded note that it was a cold, marble floor instead of the frost-covered stone of the courtyard in Atlas, raising your eyes and- there.

Salem stands before you, hands clasped together casually in front of her body, staring down her nose with wicked red eyes that make your teeth clench. You hate the way she’s looking at you; like she’s already _won_. (And maybe she has, but you weren’t going to give her the satisfaction of giving in like this.)

You reach for your aura- unsure of whether you were planning to charge at her or speed away from wherever you are- and the cold feeling of dread eats at your heart when you find nothing. It’s gone. Your aura is gone.

(Just like your hope.)

You are defenseless now, with only your mythical eyes to keep you safe, and you are beginning to doubt whether your light is enough in the face of infinite darkness. Your body shakes and you move your arms to lift yourself from the ground, but as soon as you do, a sharp twinge of pain shoots up your spine like a bolt of lightning and it sets your teeth on edge.

Damn, that hurts. And now that you have brought attention to where the shadows had stabbed you… Your stomach roils and you feel sick because there is a lot more blood than you wanted there to be. In the face of adrenaline, you hadn’t felt the pain, but now that you have been unmoving for minutes on end, it has abandoned you too and everything is starting to fester.

Everything is starting to get worse.

“I was expecting more of a struggle from all of you,” Salem continues, clearly amused by you failing to push yourself up, and it only makes the negative burn of _hate_ blaze within your chest. You try your best to stamp it down, and normally it’s easier, but right now it feels like the greatest challenge in the world. Especially when she talks to you like _that_ , so condescending. “It’s a shame that wasn’t the case.”

Her words pour acid over your wounds and out of sheer spite alone, you manage to push yourself to your hands and knees, slowly straightening your back until you’re sitting back on your heels. (It feels a lot like you’re bowing to her, and that alone makes you want to stand up, but the thought of moving even more after just barely managing to sit up makes you want to fall back down.)

“I’ll show you a struggle,” you shoot back, keeping one eye on the devil as you subtly glance around the room.

There was something… strange about this place. Something that feels vaguely familiar, but also, something just entirely _wrong_. All the colors are muted and dim, dark purples and scarlets and black. Even the light that filters in from the glass windows far out of your reach is tinged with red and it makes your fist clench to hide the tremble in your hands. 

The room is octagonal in shape, only two pathways leading out of it- one behind Salem, and one off to the side- and there is a scattering of stained glass windows bleeding light into the faintly glowing area already. Everything is tinged and dripped with the color of pure evil and the steady light that has always been within you, pulsing like a secondary heartbeat just behind your own- hiding from the world until it was needed- shies away even more like a child trying to bury under the covers from the monster beneath the bed. The air is stale and not enough, something that makes it seem like the entire area, the entire _world_ is filled with a thick sheen of smog, and you cough and wince because the jerking movement makes your wound bleed even more.

It is the greatest relief, and the biggest surprise, when you find that Crescent Rose is off to the side of you. The silver steel of the blade and the protective red metal is pockmarked with blotches of black as if someone had spilled ink all over it. You had felt it during your attempt to fight off the shadows chasing you. Every time you tore them into ribbons a few always remained behind, weighing you down even more, and your upper body has never felt so sore before. You want to reach for the scythe, but you remain cautious as ever, not knowing if Salem would actually allow you to do such a thing.

It’s not as though you’d be able to use it properly anyway. As much as you don’t want to be, as much as you know you have to keep fighting and pushing yourself, you have reached far past the limits of your energy reserves and have been running on fumes for what feels like the entire night. 

(Night… was it still night where you were? Or were you on a completely different side of Remnant now? 

_Where_ were you?)

Salem doesn’t continue speaking, just observing you with that spine-chilling stare, scanning your body with a scrutinizing eye. You somehow like her silence less than you did her patronizing words because the way she looks at you makes you feel so incredibly exposed, all of your flaws and shortcomings on full display. 

(She looks at you in that careful way you always did when working on Crescent Rose. Fitting all the available pieces together to make a deadly weapon and making note of what pieces were _missing_ to make it perfect.)

You squirm and you try to stand up, chest tightening with an immediate recoil of agony, and one hand lingers by the stab wound that you only just now realize had pierced right through the other side of you. Your fingers stain immediately and you have to force yourself not to look at it.

Salem chuckles, entirely amused by your actions, and the hate roils so violently you cannot stop yourself from shooting her a glare. The silver of your eyes glimmer, fading to white, but the agitated power does not release. Not in the way you want it to. 

Instead, it makes _your_ head hurt, and your terrible glare is immediately ruined by a grimace.

Right. Maria had told you your eyes were powered by love, the desire to protect the people you loved.

That’s not to say they couldn’t be activated by _hate_ or other emotions either, and while they could probably still work, they would damage you as well. You question if it's worth the risk and decide against it; because your vision blurs dangerously, a warning, and the light behind your heart retreats even more- as if cautioning you that it would leave too if you weren’t careful.

“I’m curious to see what you could become,” Salem muses to herself and you are just now able to blink away the white dots that have lingered in your vision.

“What do you want from me?” You manage to get out and feel like patting yourself on the back because speaking hadn’t been easy. Not with the pain of being stabbed, not with the thin air beginning to suffocate you, not with the hate still sitting in your chest. “If you want to kill me, I’m not going down that easily.”

It’s a lie, you both know it. Because right now, you are completely at the devil’s mercy. Your aura refuses to return, you are still bleeding- and at this rate, you’ll pass out from that- and you barely have the strength to _just_ maintain consciousness, weariness. (Stubbornness.)

But, even at the end of your strength, you fight. 

(You don’t know how you could give any more, but you give and give and give.)

And the devil laughs right at you; the shadows crawling around the room, up the walls, on the floor, dancing across the ceiling, seem to laugh along with her.

“If I wanted to kill you, I would have done so,” Salem says so easily you know it can’t possibly be a lie. She speaks nothing but absolute truth on a wicked tongue and you don’t know what to believe anymore. “No. You are more useful to me alive.”

“I will _never_ work for you,” you spit truth just as easily. You have people to protect, people you want to save, and to willingly side with Salem? The devil trying to destroy the world? No. It was inconceivable.

“They all say the same thing,” Salem talks, eyes turning away as if speaking not to you but to the shadows around the room. The darkness giggles. “And in the end, they all wither and succumb.”

“I’m not giving up,” you grind with every ounce of determination you can muster, and the light seems to return to you, acknowledging your resolve and wanting to reward you. “I have people counting on me and I will fight, and I will _keep_ fighting until the end.”

And just to prove your mettle, you move one leg to plant your foot against the ground, on a single knee now, and you want nothing more than to double over but you persist, pressing both hands to the bleeding wound at the front of your body and using the twinge of pain to push yourself to stand. Your breathing goes ragged but you _just_ manage to catch the scream before it could escape, twisting it into a growl as you get to your feet.

You sway in place, your legs shaking the entire time, but because Salem is looking at you with laughter in her eyes, an impressed brow raised, you maintain your balance and _not_ completely embarrass yourself by falling over again.

She gives you a slow clap like you have just given her the greatest performance she has ever seen and you peel your hands away from where you staunch the wound, the tips of your fingers and the leather of your gloves smeared with scarlet that you can’t bring yourself to look at. (You don’t know how you can still manage to stand wearing your red cloak, can still desire to coordinate your outfit to primarily involve that wretched color you have grown to all but despise and fear.)

“Inspiring,” Salem practically coos and you feel that you are a child being appraised by their teacher. It makes you sick, and the bile is tough to stomach as you force it back down your throat, burning burning burning all the way. (You think you taste some copper there as well and wonder if there would be blood when you can no longer resist the coughing fit that has been tickling the back of your throat this entire time.) Salem gives a thin smile, satisfied. “I knew I made the right choice picking you out of everyone.”

 _Picking you_ …

You don’t like the implications of her words. Because it sounds like… like even if _you_ weren’t taken tonight, someone else would have been. Your friends. Your family. Weiss and Blake and Yang and Jaune, Ren, Nora, Oscar…

She picked _you_ , and though that thought terrifies you… It relieves _something_ within you. Because she picked _you_ instead of someone else, and therefore, they don’t have to experience whatever it is you were about to go through.

(You would sacrifice yourself again and again and _again_ just to keep the others safe.)

“What do you want from me?” You say through gritted teeth, your voice snapping with the reminiscence of the sound of your sniper, the words shooting like bullets to rip apart your most dangerous foe.

Salem lets them bounce off of her, unbothered and unafraid, and her lips twitch in another thin smile before she’s suddenly walking closer to you without a word.

Your breath hitches and you stumble back immediately, damn near falling but you keep your balance, fists clenching together and such a raw, primal fear surging in your stomach and ripping your throat apart as you shout at her, “ _S_ _tay away_!”

And your light feeds off of your emotions. Love and hate and fear (you have yet to see if sorrow can activate it, but you don’t doubt that it’s possible).

You’re starting to notice a difference, even with everything going on, between the emotional origin of your light releasing and the essence of it.

With love and protection, your light is blinding, radiant, but oh so warm. Healing.

With hate, even that split second of it, it had been _burning_ , piercing, and trying to tear its way through your head. Harming.

And now with fear, it is _cold_. Chilling in a way the year-round frost of Atlas could never compare and you swear you see your breath mist before the light escapes you. The resulting explosion of radiance is much more forceful than usual, actively _pushing_ things away, and it causes you to stumble back even more until you hit the wall behind you solidly enough to knock the air out of your lungs. Crescent Rose shrieks across the ground, kicked up by the pulse of energy and sent skidding farther out of your reach. Repelling.

When your vision returns to you, there is something like a white fog that lingers in the air for a few moments longer, shrouding around your form protectively before it gradually vanishes as well and you are left even more exhausted than before. You are breathless and shaking and your head hurts- _damn_ that hurts. (And so does your chest, the light going back to huddling behind your heart and shivering just as much as you do.)

You can hear the faintest sizzle in the air, and when you lift your gaze and blink away the haze, you can see Salem standing there, one arm barred in front of her like a shield and the white of her skin is blistered angrily, a thin stream of smoke lifting off of it. The giggling shadows around have disappeared as well. Retreating from your light or dying to it, you’re unsure.

Your heart thunders in your chest, pulse raging in your ears. You hold your breath, trembling against the wall, suddenly terrified that you have aggravated the devil even more.

Salem slowly lowers her defense, glancing down at the reddened, irritated skin of her arm with a minuscule frown and you swear you could see her eyes narrow ever so slightly before they turn in your direction. Your body stiffens, fists clenching, and you prepare for the worst, unsure if you’d be able to do that again and use it to flee out of the room and find some semblance of an exit from this place.

“Now, now; that was _very_ rude of you,” her voice is reprimanding and it feels like you’re being scolded, and despite yourself, you wince and tuck your chin to your chest before you could stop it. When you realize you’re doing it, you grit your teeth together and raise your eyes again, glaring once more and trying not to reveal that you’re as terrified as you feel.

“Stay away from me,” you wanted it to come out sternly, but instead, your voice shakes as much as your body does and you try not to let it embarrass you. “Or I’ll do it again.”

Salem looks on in silent contemplation, arms dropping to her side before she lets out a quiet scoff.

“Very well. You don’t want me to go to you?” A rhetorical question that she gave you no time to try and answer before one of her hands lifts again, aiming directly at you, and there seems to be a flicker of _something_ in red eyes before her fingers curl as if she were simply beckoning you forward.

Suddenly, you can’t breathe. You can’t move.

Sensation leaves your body before you can even try to resist whatever it was Salem was doing. Energy crackles over your body that in no way belongs to you, arcs of something like black lightning bouncing around your form and you think it should be painful enough to drop you back to the ground but it isn't. It doesn’t hurt at all. A million tiny claws dig into you and when Salem lifts her hand just a little higher, your head lifts as well on her command no matter how hard you try to fight it.

Your body continues to shake and it feels like you’re being held aloft- floating once more in a limited space. A puppet on strings, Salem curls her finger once more and you feel yourself begin to walk closer to her when she says, commands lightly, “Then you will come to me.”

 _No, no, no_. Your heart jumps with panic and the light is as tired as you are, useless now. Your breathing is ragged as you get within arm’s length of her and you clench your teeth together so tightly it feels like your jaw might break.

How easy it is for Salem to just lift a finger and control your entire body. 

(How weak you are…)

“Now, was that so hard?” she tilts her head, a victorious grin hidden behind a fake frown, and you want to spit back but your mouth refuses to cooperate. Her fingers tighten and the million little claws dig deeper into your body, ripping through flesh, and you feel a few cuts opening along your skin head-to-toe. Salem is content with your silence as she hums, nodding to herself, before suddenly turning toward the pathway behind her, waving you along with a twitch of her fingers.

And when she says, “Follow me,” you resist and resist and _resist_ but no matter how hard you try, your body moves without your permission. It is the most terrifying sensation you have ever felt, being trapped in your own body like this.

Salem makes no more conversation. She moves as though she’s floating rather than touching the ground- the devil and god have no need to walk like mere mortals- and Crescent Rose gets farther and farther away from you. Abandoned on the ground, just like you are. 

Curiously enough, though the stab wound has made it impossible to move without staggering and limping, you walk as though nothing is wrong. No falter in your step, a pace that can only be read as determined.

Determined to listen, determined to follow. (Determined to _obey_.)

Though it’s futile, you still struggle as much as you can, not really knowing what _struggling_ entailed. You try to command your body to stop but that didn’t feel like you were doing anything. You try to coax the light back out, to help you and strike with Salem’s back turned, but it is too weak and too tired to listen any longer. (It’s almost as if it’s taking a nap and you want to join it so badly.)

You struggle and fail to resist, and to make yourself feel like you’re actually doing something useful, you look around as best as you can because your head will not move enough for you to see everything, but your eyes do. Salem has not taken that away from you, at least.

Like the rest of the world or wherever you are, the hall is dim, and eventually, the stained glass windows are replaced with candles instead. You make a note of going down some set of staircases, the area around you becoming less like an extravagant marbled hall and more like you’re walking down a cave tunnel. (Straight into the mouth of hell.)

There are no turns that you take, just a simple straight shot. (Well, downward shot.) You eventually give up your weak struggles; because every time you try, you feel more cuts opening up and though you don’t feel the pain, you imagine that once you do- it’ll be nothing short of torture.

(You notice the shadows moving along the walls the lower down you go, and you think about just how many are behind you.)

(You wonder if you’re hallucinating or if you hear the darkness faintly screaming in distress, a mournful melody all for you.

All for the angel falling from grace.)

The silence is overwhelming, suffocating, and you don't know whether to be grateful or not when the scenery changes around you, the staircase coming to an end, and just beyond Salem’s form, you can see what looks like a wall made of… leather and flesh and skin. Like the mouth of a beast that only opens with a flick of Salem’s wrist, the sound of the doorway parting sends an unpleasant shiver down your spine and you would grimace if your facial expressions were your own.

The next area is lit only by the glow of red and purple crystals that litter around the area, up the walls, and to the ceiling. It is empty, save for some sort of dais that sits at the far end of the room. There seems to be a cauldron or tub on the dais- and you are too far away to make out what’s inside and see the entire expanse of it.

The wall closes shut behind you, and again, the sound of the flesh moving makes you want to double over and expel the contents of your stomach.

As soon as you are trapped within the room, Salem flicks her fingers once more, absentmindedly in your direction, and the feeling returns to your body and you stagger immediately with the feel of your own weight. A ragged, tired breath escapes you and- yep. You feel all of the cuts all at once, as well as the stab wound already present, and it damn near makes you want to collapse to the floor.

But you don’t move. Readying yourself, you glare at the back of Salem’s head as she steps over to the dais, turning around to face you before she could climb up the two-step staircase and meeting your anger head-on. Undaunted by the fury radiating off of you, and you wonder if she is just feeding off of your negative emotions.

“I’ll admit. I’ve grown rather bored of the current path we walk on,” her lips twitch and you get the sense that the shadows are laughing at you again. “You heroes struggle and fight, but beating you is no longer entertaining to me.”

“Or maybe you just feel like you’re about to lose,” you can’t help but cut in, not caring if you believe your own words or not and just wanting to hurt the one responsible for hurting so many of you in so many ways. “We’ve beaten you and your people a few times. We kept the lamp away from you.”

“An amusing roadblock,” the devil shoots back, giving an unbothered shrug, “You win a few battles, certainly, but in the end, the war is mine. It always has been. It’s only a matter of time now, and before it’s over…” Salem’s grin becomes wicked, “I want to have some fun.”

“This isn’t a game,” your body begins to shake for a different reason entirely. Hate and rage burn within you and you don’t know why it’s so hard to keep it down and push it away. Maybe it’s just this place, amplifying negative emotions. Maybe it’s just being in the presence of Salem. (Or maybe it’s just been inside of you all along, just waiting to come out and unleash havoc.) Your blood spills from you in the way you want the rage too. “People are _dying_. The world is falling apart- How can you think that this is just a _game_?”

“It’s all it’s ever been.”

“You can’t play with people’s lives!” You shout with what little air you have and the logical side of you is telling you to calm down because getting so worked up over this is only going to hurt you in the end.

Salem is quiet again, and just like before, she looks at you with a calculating eye that makes you feel like some sort of test subject. The shadows dance around the room, waltzing to music only they can hear, and you wish Crescent Rose was in your hands so you could rip them to shreds for laughing at you.

 _Calm down, calm down_. You had to keep a level head. You had to think of a way out, you cannot let Salem’s words get to you.

Her hand lifts and you immediately flinch backward, but she doesn’t aim it in your direction. Instead, she waves her wrist to one of the walls of the room, in a space empty of the glowing crystals, not once taking her eyes off of you even as the _flesh_ of the wall begins to swish and swirl into a thinner and thinner membrane until it is almost translucent like a screen. You can’t help but watch, equal parts disgusted and horrified, the crystals surrounding the space glowing brighter for a second.

You hear Salem say, tauntingly, “Watch me.”

The image is blurry at first, but the more you stare at the wall, the more you realize something is moving within it. Color swirls along the membrane, a cloud of red and a gleam of yellow light before… you can see something. Like looking through the eyes of someone else, some _thing_ else, and it takes a second longer for you to recognize what could only be the ruins of Atlas and Mantle. The image moves quickly, as if the thing was running, vision jostling, and you find yourself moving closer to the screen.

You had felt the floating kingdom of Atlas being tugged by the whale, had felt the impact, but you had no time to figure out where to go next before Salem came in to snatch you away. And now… now, looking at all of this destruction robs you of air and you wonder if this is what those who had been too slow to escape the collision felt when being crushed by hundreds of thousands of pounds of rock and debris.

It takes you a moment even longer to realize you’re looking through the eyes of a Grimm, one chosen at random probably, and the thing moves _fast_. Probably faster than even you could keep up with, and the world blurs and makes the devastation difficult to see.

When it comes to a stop, you see another one beside it; the creature is vaguely humanoid in shape, limbs unnaturally long, spine hunched and skin like leather- dusted with snowflakes and blood alike. The ears appear pointed, the face distinctly human-shaped but it was entirely emaciated, the skin almost looking like it was seconds away from falling off of its bones. The hide was stretched tight over its elongated bones, teeth razor-sharp and eyes sunken in, gleaming with an insatiable hunger.

You can’t stand to look at it for a second longer, because the Grimm that you are watching is in the process of ripping a corpse apart and you feel a sting of tears in your eyes.

“Do not look away,” Salem sounds closer, but if she’s standing right beside you, you make no effort to get away from her. She commands, “ _Watch_.”

And for some reason, perhaps just to torture yourself, you force your eyes open and breathe a soundless sigh of relief when the Grimm whose eyes you are looking through has moved on from the previous one. But it moves slower, stalking through the broken streets of Mantle, on the hunt for its next victim, and you get to see all of the horribleness.

The splatters of blood and bodies and limbs. The broken buildings and chunks of rock and debris scattered all around like a child tossing aside the toy it was done playing with. Up above in the sky, there were flying creatures, small and quick- tiny humanoid shapes, and one stops long enough for you to examine it. 

Large leathery wings make up most of its mass, a demonic quality to its features as it flutters about, pupil-less eyes roaming this way and that to find its next victim. A scorpion’s tail whips around impatiently, claws tiny but wicked on its hands, and its feet resembled that of eagle talons. It lets out a chittering sound before suddenly shooting off, and the creature that you are seeing through the eyes of follows just as quickly, the destruction and chaos and death blurring by.

And then you hear it.

The screams.

The creature perches on a piece of rubble long enough for you to see _people_ running away. Innocents. Civilians who had somehow survived the crash of Atlas and were now being picked off by the Grimm. You want to scream an instinctual warning at them, but within the span of one blink to the next, one of the people is right in front of you when the creature jumps for them. The person, a girl no older than you, just barely reaching their teenage years even, falls to the ground with the weight of the ghoul and she’s screaming for help.

Someone calls for them but you guess that they keep running away because no one comes to aid her.

Curiously, the Grimm doesn’t immediately tear into the girl pinned beneath it, simply sitting heavily on her and making her immobile. The innocent stares up at the face of death with wide, teary eyes and your stomach coils dangerously because her eyes are blue- and it's so easy to imagine them being Weiss’s eyes instead.

Salem places a hand on your shoulder, leaning close to you as she whispers, “Watch.”

Your tears start to fall when the Grimm- as if moving to its master’s command- is given permission to kill and devour. It screams and the girl screams as claws fly wild, shredding through skin and clothes and spilling blood and- _oh gods, there’s blood everywhere_. You can’t breathe anymore and you don’t blink away and your eyes are starting to burn, but not because of your light.

No, your light is hidden away, afraid by what you were witnessing.

“I was always going to win,” Salem continues speaking to the background orchestra of the dying civilian, stepping away from you and wandering back over to the dais. “I’m just sorry for you all, thinking that you had a chance. Ozpin gave you false hope, trained you to fight what you can’t beat, _convinced_ you all that you could save the world…” She snickers to herself, shakes her head, “ And you call _me_ the monster.”

You don’t respond, you don’t have anything to say in your defense. You want to think of something to say but all you can hear is the ravenous screeches of the ghoul and the squelch of blood. The girl stops screaming, but you can still hear the echoes.

You don’t think it was ever going to go away.

“This could all be over. No more pain, no more suffering,” you hear her continue speaking, and at last, your eyes peel away from the horrid movie still playing. The creature, bored from playing with the dead body, has begun to move on and you don’t want to watch it happen again. Salem is standing beside the cauldron, and when your eyes meet hers, she motions one hand down to it in presentation. “All you need to do is obey.”

Despite yourself, you begin to walk in her direction even without her controlling you. The cries of Grimm and the echoing screams and the laughing shadows fill your head and you’re just so damn tired now. Your eyes are heavy and your heart is heavy and you want to collapse and never get back up.

(But you have to keep going, you _have_ to. People are counting on you, people are-)

You step up toward the cauldron to peek inside, keeping a fair distance between you and Salem and she gives you that space, to your surprise, remaining in her spot and just examining you. Your brows furrow in mild confusion. It takes you longer than it really should to realize that the tub or whatever is in the shape of a coffin, large enough to submerge you in completely, and it’s filled with… something.

Like shadows given liquid form, pulsing black with an underlying shade of red and the barest gleams of yellow and purple. It swirls and shifts without anything touching it, seemingly _alive_ in its own way, and a chill rolls down your spine the longer you look at it and you force yourself to back away.

Salem wants you to get in. To drown in the darkness she has set just for you.

You don’t know what it’ll do to you...

But you imagine it’s not anything good.

(The light within you squirms uncomfortably and you have to agree with it. Something wasn’t right about that water.)

“I am not giving in,” you say even though your voice is pitched with more fear than determination and you clench your teeth, agitated at yourself for being scared. (You’re fucking terrified, but you have to remain strong. You _have_ to.) “I am never going to obey you. And if you’re going to force me, then I’m going to fight.”

“Oh, I’m not going to force you,” Salem responds with a small curl to her lips before she’s walking away, down the steps of the dais, and back toward the closed doorway. You don’t know whether you should attempt to follow, but your feet don’t move and your fingers tighten into fists. Over her shoulder, she drawls, “It is so much more satisfying when _you_ do it yourself. When you are so broken that you have no other options left. All in due time, Ruby Rose. You _will_ go in; on your own, without my powers.”

You are about to snap at her, to keep arguing because it is the only way for you to fight right now, but she gives another flick of her wrist in the direction of the screen, the door before her sliding open for her to leave. You only manage to take a single step before you hear your name coming from the wall.

“ _Ruby_!”

Your head instinctually turns to watch and your breath catches in your throat. You’re still seeing through the eyes of a Grimm, this time in the mind of one of the flying imps, and the monster is currently trailing Blake and Yang. Your feet move you closer without you realizing it until you’re able to reach out and touch the leathery membrane, a quiet whimper escaping your lips because you are _here_ and they are _there_ and they can’t see you.

They’re rushing around frantically, the imp keeping a safe distance to stay hidden within the shadows, and perhaps it is telling just how focused they are on finding _you_ instead of keeping an eye on their surroundings that neither of them notices the little monster. It gives you a front-row seat to their anguish.

And you realize it’s only going to get worse because you start to recognize the surroundings.

The courtyard of Atlas Academy.

The place where you were last at naught but maybe an hour ago.

...The place where Weiss is still at, and the sight of your partner on her knees in the middle of the courtyard, by your blood trail, breaks you.

“ _Weiss_!” Blake’s voice is muffled and the imp sneaks closer, hiding at an angle for you to see them all and you just want one of them to notice it so they could kill it and you wouldn’t have to _see this_ anymore. Blake and Yang push themselves, no doubt just as exhausted as everybody else is, and Blake is the first to notice the blood trail. She stops, but Yang continues, crouching beside Weiss and placing a hand on her shoulder.

“ _Weiss? Are you okay? Where’s Ruby?_ ”

 _I’m here_ , you want to scream but you know they wouldn’t hear you and you sob instead, a hand flying to your mouth and your legs begin to shake. _I’m here. Please help me, please_ -

“ _We have to go, there’s too many Grimm. Weiss, where is my sister? You were supposed to find her!_ ”

Yang is grabbing at both of Weiss’s shoulders now, angling the ex-heiress to look at her, and you don’t need to be closer to already imagine the blank and haunted look on your partner’s face. You had seen it before you vanished and it was going to stay in your mind forever.

“ _Weiss_?” It’s Blake’s turn to speak, in a gentler voice, and you realize that she has kneeled by the blood trail, eyeing it with narrowed eyes and you ponder if she’s starting to piece together assumptions. Blake would be able to put the puzzle together, she was smart like that.

“ _She’s…_ ” Your heart shatters hearing Weiss speak with such anguish, a shaking hand reaching up to claw at her head, and you wonder if she’s blaming herself for this. She did that a lot. You want to tell her not to because this wasn’t her fault. It wasn’t her fault. Her voice breaks and you fall to your knees. “ _She’s gone_.”

Weiss is gasping for air and so are you because you can’t breathe anymore.

“ _What?_ ” Yang asks, confused, in denial. Probably thinking that she didn’t hear Weiss correctly. “ _What do you mean she’s gone?_ ”

“ _She’s_ -” You don’t think you’ve ever seen Weiss hyperventilate, she’s never let her emotions get the better of her like that, but she’s starting to now and it’s only Yang’s hands on her shoulders that’s keeping her body from falling apart due to her shaking. Stubbornly, she keeps talking, “ _Salem was… Salem took her. The shadows- Yang, she’s gone!_ ”

“ _S-Slow down, Weiss_.”

“ _She’s gone!_ ” Weiss shouts and the imp stirs in its place, growing impatient with just watching, feeding off of your partner’s anguish and you have a morbid thought to think about what it would taste like. “ _She’s gone! We have to save her, we have to_ -”

It’s all she manages to get out before she starts sobbing and you can’t bear to watch anymore.

You turn a teary glare in Salem’s direction where she still stands with her back turned to you, looking over her shoulder tauntingly. There is triumph in her stance, amusement in her eyes, and you can’t help but question how someone has grown so wicked that they lived off of playing with other people’s lives. (You wonder if you will end up like that.)

“All in due time,” is the last thing she says before she’s walking away, the flesh wall closing behind her and leaving you alone in the room with the liquid darkness and the sound of your family falling apart and the giggling shadows.

“ _We have to go_ ,” you turn your head back to the screen to see Blake kneeling in front of Weiss and Yang, grabbing both of their shoulders with her hands. Her voice is strained, but it’s an accomplishment in itself that she isn’t falling apart like the other two are. You breathe a quiet sigh of relief.

“ _But, Blake…_ ” Yang’s heartbroken voice makes you want to cover your ears but you don’t, hands resting uselessly at your sides. You don’t know why you’re torturing yourself like this.

“ _I know,_ ” Blake’s voice shakes and cracks but she swallows everything down and pushes on, “ _I_ _know. We’ll find her, I swear Yang, but right now we have to go_. _Please_.”

It settles something within you, knowing your sister and your partner are in good care. Blake was a survivor of many hardships and she knew best how to react in the face of absolute devastation. When everything went to ruin, Blake was the first to move. Perhaps later, in her own solitude, she’d fall apart too, but for now, you can count on her to get them to safety.

Together, Blake and Yang help Weiss to her feet, help to carry her along because she’s still breaking apart and you wonder if they’re enough to catch all the pieces. The imp watches them as they begin to stumble away, leaving the courtyard and your blood trail behind, and you half-expect and fear that it was going to charge after them, to beat them while they were crumbling, but for whatever reason, it decides to spare them. It turns, flying in the opposite direction, and the vision starts to fade away until you’re just staring at a blank wall again.

The crystals that had been glowing brightly dim once more and you know it’s over. For now.

You’re left on your knees, numb. The shadows on the wall continue to giggle and scream from time-to-time, and you swear- _you swear_ you could hear the cauldron of darkness calling for you, whispering sweetly, but you ignore them both.

_They’re okay._

_They’re going to be okay._

And eventually, so would you. They’ll find you, they’ll save you.

In the meantime, you just had to remain strong.

You had to resist.

You had to _fight_. No matter how long it was going to take.

(But you’re tired, so tired, you can’t-)

In the loneliness that Salem has left you in, with only the shadows to witness, you scream and cry and break. If you had more energy to spare, perhaps you’d try and ruin some things but there’s nothing that looks fragile enough for you to destroy (except yourself).

You’re scared. You’re so fucking scared.

_Save me save me save me save me…_

_Help…_


	2. The Hope

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everybody who decided to check out this story :). Hope you're ready because this is where it really starts to begin. Also, this story is generally shorter than the last, just a warning in advance. (I wrote it all in one document and split it up.) Anyway, yeah, let's see the start of Ruby's descent together, shall we? Put on your helmets and strap in (because it gets even worse after this). Enjoy!

You end up falling asleep.

Not because you actually want to and instead because you _cannot_ anymore. It’s less of a blissful rest and more of an absolute shutdown, your body forcing you into unconsciousness so it could begin to recover, and you were a little scared that you weren’t going to wake up again.

But you do. (And that scares you too.)

You don’t know how much time has passed before your eyes open again, and at first, you freak out because the ceiling is _all_ _kinds_ of wrong and the air is suffocating and _where are you_ \- Oh. Right.

Now you remember.

You were taken by Salem and delivered to this strange world of muted colors.

No big deal.

 _No big deal_.

( _Don’t panic don’t panic don’t panic_.)

(You panic.)

You lie there motionless for a moment before scrambling to sit up- partly because you don’t like the idea of being so unguarded in this place, and partly because you hear the flesh door shifting in that disgusting way it does. Opening and closing. Your head spins as you move quickly, but you blink the blur from your eyes and see-

“Wait!” You scramble to stand and grimace, glancing down and incredibly surprised to see that your stab wound had been patched up with bandages and gauze. Not incredibly clean and proper, mind you, because they sit on the outside of your clothes- so you half-expect the person didn’t want to undress you or had been advised not to- but better than nothing. To your surprise, the person actually listens and turns back to look at you with a sigh and despondent red eyes.

You approach the closed doorway, reaching a hand for it and testing its might. It won’t budge, but it is thin enough for you to know they can hear you.

“Emerald,” you pant for a moment, and despite _knowing_ she was an enemy, despite knowing she was responsible for aiding Salem in this war, the sight of an actual _person_ here besides the devil comforts you in a way you’re not expecting. You stare at her and she looks back at you and your mind races to find some way to convince her to help. You lick your parched lips, tear stains now dried on your cheeks but you ignore them. “Where… Where are we?”

For a while, she doesn’t answer, and in the low light of the flickering candles and the gleam of the crystals, you expect her to just ignore you and walk away. She stands nervously, glancing over her shoulder and back to you, gripping at her wrist with the opposite hand. Red eyes regard you with something like _pity_ and your stomach squirms at it, a flare of hateful heat within your chest, and you definitely think this place has some sort of effect on your emotions now. It’s never been this hard to control your own negativity before. 

(The flesh walls around you thrum with a faint song of war, urging your harsher emotions to the surface with a wicked tune.)

“Salem’s realm,” she responds eventually, voice low, and she glances over her shoulder again, taking half a step closer toward you, and you feel hope take the place of hate. Hope that is immediately beaten across the head when she says next, “Nobody is going to find you here.”

“They will,” you answer immediately, refusing to believe otherwise and shaking your head, clenching your hands into fists. “They will. And if they don’t, I’ll find a way out myself.”

“Don’t you get it!” Emerald snaps, perhaps sharper and louder than she intended because she freezes, paranoid in the way she constantly looks behind her, stands as though she’s ready to run right then and there. She speaks in a quieter voice, rough and stern and truthful. “There’s no escape, Ruby. Salem has you now. You’re not leaving here unless she wants you gone.”

“I can fight her, I can-”

“You will die,” she cuts you off with a quiet scoff, speaking with absolute certainty, “That’s the only thing you’ll get fighting her.”

“I have to _try_ ,” you grit your teeth, feeling your eyes sting, and you rub at them to chase away the burn of tears. “I can’t give up. Not now, not ever.”

Emerald regards you silently, shaking her head in disbelief and sympathy, as if she’s aware of what’s to come for you before you do. Perhaps she does. Salem probably told all of her lackeys exactly what she was going to do to you- and you’re too afraid to ask. 

The pool of darkness at the far end of the room is enough of a threat.

“You will,” she says and starts to turn away, panic jumping to your throat to strangle you. There is sadness in her voice and it almost sounds like she’s about to apologize to you. Like she _wants_ to but can’t find the words or the will. “That’s the only way to survive this. Obey.”

She starts to leave and you frantically lunge for the door, ramming your hands into it and trying to push with every ounce of strength within you but for all your might, the leathery skin doesn’t give and you suddenly wish for claws on your fingers to tear into it. Your palms sting from the impact and it feels like you’re bearing feral fangs you don’t have when you grit your teeth.

“We can _fight_ , Emerald!” You shout for her because she’s starting to get farther away, leaving from your range of sight and back up the stairs. The living walls seem to pulse, trembling with your emotions, and you want _nothing_ _more_ than to have your scythe in your hands to make them bleed. The shadows start laughing again. “We can beat her! We just have to work together!”

You don’t know if she hears you or not, but you stop calling for her after your voice goes hoarse and your throat starts to hurt. Defeated, your shoulders sag and you let out a heavy sigh, turning away from the door and surveying the room once more in a feeble attempt to look for _something_ that would help you. You’d take anything at this point.

You didn’t notice it before upon waking, but there’s a tray of some kind of food that already looks bland and tasteless sitting on the ground where you had been and another set of gauze and bandages. You don’t know what would be the smarter decision: to build your strength and recover to fight and lose or to starve yourself and let infection set in and die and lose.

(Either way, you lose.)

You huff, kneeling by the tray and pushing it aside, setting about unwrapping the bandages already on you and unlacing your corset to start cleaning your wounds. You had to fight. You had to _try_. Even without your weapon or your semblance, you still have your silver-eyed powers and they would have to be enough. 

(You try not to think about the way your light trembles, timid and terrified as you are, and you want to hide along with it.)

You patch yourself up with what’s available and it feels a lot like giving in, accepting this kind of aid from the enemy, and that feeling damn near makes you want to tear the bandages right off but you just barely resist temptation by the skin of your teeth. You’re about to decline the food altogether, but recovery has made you ravenous and you eventually find yourself succumbing to your hunger. 

(“ _In the end, they all wither and succumb_.” You wonder if there’s a way to rip a voice from your head.)

It is impossible to keep track of time in this room. For the first what you guess to be hours, you examine every nook and cranny open to you- giving the cauldron of darkness a wide berth at first before curiosity gets the better of you and you snoop around it. There was something hypnotizing about the black water, and you had to slap your hand before it could reach down for it without you realizing. 

You get as far away from it as you can after that.

There is no other exit besides the single doorway that is currently closed.

The walls seem to be alive and it makes you feel like you’re inside the belly of some incredible beast. You stick to the center of the room to not touch any of them. The crystals are there just for show and lighting it seems, or there just to torture you with images when Salem’s magic wants to play with you too.

It’s after the first half of the day, you’re guesstimating, that you _hear_ something. It had been an outlier buzz the entire time, and with your wandering mind catching up with everything that’s happened, you pay attention to it and goosebumps rise to your skin.

It sounds like the shadows are talking. Quiet whispers of something so close to some kind of language you can almost grasp the words, but they slip past your fingers before you can grab onto them. The cauldron chimes an enchanting, haunting hymn, and you force yourself to hum a different tune that Weiss used to sing back at Beacon when she thought no one was listening. (You don’t have her voice, but it’s comforting nonetheless.)

( _The loneliest of all indeed_.)

You don’t like sitting still much, sitting still has never been your thing before, and being here didn’t change that, so between bouts of searching the room over and over and over again and testing the walls for any sort of give or weak point, you pace in the middle of the room. Thinking, planning.

(Panicking.)

Without Crescent Rose, you are virtually harmless, and you scorn yourself for not taking hand-to-hand combat more seriously. It probably wouldn’t do much against an immortal, but at least it’ll give you a better chance, however small.

With your light hiding, you don’t know if you’ll be able to bring it out when the time called for it. It was unreliable and picky.

You are in a completely strange world, probably beneath the ground at the moment considering the number of stairs you walked down, and even if you were to somehow escape from this room, the rest of the place was a complete mystery.

And Salem wasn’t your only enemy here. There were Emerald and Cinder and Tyrian and the rest of her minions and you don’t know how likely it was that they would _all_ be gone at any one time. And then there was the Grimm and the elements to think about and your injuries and basic hunger and thirst and-

Yeah... You’re not liking your odds.

But you cling onto hope. 

(The shadows laugh harder and you scowl at them before you realize you are acknowledging their presence and duck your head.)

 _What to do, what to do_.

Play along? No. You didn’t know the rules of this game, and at any one point you would fall into the throes of the void and you didn’t like your chances there. With your light cowering, you feel an innate fear for the darkness begin to settle into your bones, making you wary, and you grit your teeth and pace harder.

You try to meditate, to concentrate on your powers like Maria had told you to, but the sound of the shadows is too distracting and every time you feel yourself drifting off, you become paranoid thinking that something was going to strike at you from behind and you shake out of it. You had to remain on your guard here.

Aside from Emerald’s short visit, nobody else comes to see you. At any one moment, you are expecting to hear the sound of the flesh opening, but it never does and it’s a struggle to keep your hands from shaking. You keep your eyes on the doorway as you pace, hoping that it would open if you just stared hard enough. (It doesn’t.)

The pool of shadows hums louder and your pacing stops, drawn toward it and the whispers that fade in and out of existence.

You think you hear them calling your name.

“ _...Ruby…_ _Ruby… Ruby…_ ”

You turn to sit behind one of the crystals that’s closer to the middle of the room than the living walls, leaning against the glowing purple shards and tapping your fingers against your thighs to keep some semblance of movement going. You think you hate this solitude even worse than when Salem was here.

Isolation was dangerous.

You’re humming another repetition of Weiss’s song- you lost count by now how many times you’ve done it- when the crystals from before begin to glow again. You startle to attention, shoulders tightening with anticipation before you push yourself to your feet. The wall shifts to become translucent once again and you already know what’s coming before you hear sound.

You are still in the ruins of the mighty kingdom of Atlas, and though it has been who knows how long since you last saw it, it looks just as bad as before. Worse, even. The distant sound of evacuations being made is drowned out by the fading whispers and your heart aches seeing all the destruction that you could not stop.

The destruction you had been too _weak_ to stop.

The Grimm whose eyes you watch through moves languidly, at an unhurried pace for you to take it all in, through a ruin of buildings and the darkness and smoke so you can’t tell if it’s night or day there, and you swallow thickly before turning your eyes away from the screen. You don’t want to see that. Not so soon.

Atlas has fallen and you could do nothing to stop it, you know that. _You know that_.

Salem just wants to flaunt her victory to you and you suddenly feel like hitting something. Your fingers tighten against your legs to fight off the desire and you draw in a deep, steadying breath of the thin air and- you don’t know why it’s taken you this long to realize but…

You reach for your aura and find nothing.

You try and you try and _you_ _try_ and each time you’re met with failure.

_Crap._

You are vulnerable- and you don’t know if it’s an effect of the room you’re in or Salem’s magic that had been controlling you before or your own exhaustion. You try not to let it panic you even more, but your heart is already beating wildly in your throat and you squeeze your eyes shut and look at nothing but darkness. Darkness, darkness, always darkness. They fly open immediately and you scramble to your feet to pace again.

You had to do _something_.

But there was nothing for you to do.

Nothing but...

The cauldron calls your name and you just barely refrain yourself from snapping at it to shut up because you feel like addressing the things around you would only make them even worse. Even louder.

You pace and then you sit restlessly and then get up to pace some more when nothing helps, searching searching searching endlessly for something in the room that could help, and each time you find nothing. You’re alone.

All alone except for the shadows that move just out of the corner of your eyes and stop when you happen to glance in their direction.

You think hours go by and everything is still much of the same. You find yourself tapping at your stab wound from time-to-time and you have to clench your hands together tightly to keep them from doing that. You check your pockets and find that while the magazines of bullets for your weapon have been taken away- most likely by Emerald earlier- there are a few stray bullets. Just three (how fitting) and you roll one of them between your fingers in one hand to busy yourself even more.

Against the crystal you had been leaning on earlier, you use a bullet to carefully scrape a single line into it, letting the nails-on-a-chalkboard screech push the whispers out of your ears for just a few seconds. Those seconds are such a heavenly respite. You’re tempted to keep scratching but then you’d mess up your counter so you have to resist (and bear the whispers once more).

The day or the night drags on and your idleness is shifting to exhaustion once more and you think it’s normally time for you to go to sleep, your internal clock still wanting you to rest and recover, but… you hesitate. You don’t want to fall asleep if you don’t have to, but you know, _you know_ not sleeping at all would be another downfall for you and you don’t want to willingly put yourself at even more of a disadvantage.

You’re already at such a handicap it’ll take a miracle for you to win. (And you don’t think miracles come just because you wish for them in this twisted realm.)

You curl against the ground with the crystal at your back and the three bullets held in a tight grip in your hands. You hold them close to your chest, the only piece of Crescent Rose left to guard your heart. Where you’re positioned, the only thing to look at is the cauldron at the far end of the room and that makes you want to turn around, but the idea of having _that_ at your back instead unsettles you so you grit your teeth and bear the discomfort. 

You glare at it, anticipating some kind of horrific abomination to simply crawl out of it to drag you in, but aside from the occasional calls of your name and the constant low-thrumming song, it is harmless. You don’t know why that sets you on edge even more.

The movie of the day ends with a final echoing cry of the Grimm. Your eyelids begin to dip and you clench your jaw, still indecisive if you actually want to sleep or not. 

With sleep came dreams but with sleep also came nightmares and you’re not quite ready to know what this room could do to those. 

Or what if the moment you drifted off, the shadows would drag you to the cauldron and throw you in before you could even fight it?

Or what if Salem comes into the room? 

What if the door opens to give you a clear exit and you’re _asleep_ so you miss it?

You sigh, tapping a single knuckle to your head to scold yourself. You have to keep it together. The others needed time to _recover_ after everything, but they’ll come for you eventually.

( _...right?..._ )

(The shadows giggle like you’ve told them the funniest joke.)

In the meantime, you have to keep it together. You have to stay in tiptop condition.

So, fearing what was to come, you close your eyes and drift away.

**_…_ **

When you open them again, you’re…

Back in Atlas?

You blink a few times, squinting up at the ceiling, wondering if the silver of the walls would shift back to the ominous red of a fresh wound, but when it doesn’t, you shoot up from your bed with a choking gasp. The blankets the Academy had given you coil at your legs and you thrash to get them off because it feels like they’re trapping you and your hands shake as you bring them to your head, brushing your hair back and gripping at your temple.

Everything around you feels solid to the touch, the walls cold and silent, and you can hear the sound of your sister snoring across the way. The familiarity makes your muscles go lax and you breathe.

You’re safe.

You’re _safe_ and you were here, in Atlas, and not in the clutches of the devil with taunting shadows and living walls and cauldrons that called your name and-

“Ruby?”

You jump instinctively, hands clenched into fists and the hair rising along the back of your neck as you whirl, ready to defend yourself, but the sight of gentle blue eyes gives you pause and your next breath comes out just a little more ragged. Just a little more relieved.

Weiss.

It’s Weiss.

Weiss is here. 

(You’re safe, you’re safe, you’re safe.)

She’s lifting herself on her own bed to look at you where you are on the bunk above her, long hair rolling like waves of silver down her back, and you don’t think she’s ever looked so beautiful before. The light from the shattered moon undulates in waves with the curtain at the far end of the room. A backdrop of silver to bathe the angel in front of you with a heavenly aura.

It takes your breath away.

“Are you okay?” She asks with concern in her voice and you let out a wet laugh, wiping at your eyes as your body sags in relief. You’re here, you’re here, you’re here.

You’re safe.

“I- Are… Is this real?” You find yourself asking, stuttering, because you _need_ to hear it from her voice. Because if Weiss says it is, then this must be true. (Right?)

Weiss never lies to you.

Her brows furrow and she looks so soft and concerned and confused. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

You swallow and your throat feels rough like you’ve been crying or screaming for years without rest. You heave a sigh and reach out with a shaking hand in her direction and you want to whimper when she immediately twines her fingers with yours without preamble, holding you steady. Securely. 

She squeezes your hand and you smile so brightly your cheeks hurt and your chest feels lighter and _you’re safe you’re safe you’re safe_.

“I don’t know,” you whisper with a shake of your head, letting out another teary laugh and wiping the last of your sorrow and relief away. There was no need to cry anymore. You’re safe now. “I think I had a terrible nightmare.”

She frowns at you once more before giving your hand another squeeze, a reassuring and small smile pulling at her lips as she whispers in return, “Well, it was only a dream. It’s all it was.”

“Yeah,” you breathe out, putting a hand to your chest and feeling your racing heart start to relax. Paranoia clings to your skin like soot and ash, goosebumps sitting pretty on your arms and you shiver before turning your eyes back to her. Weiss still looks at you, patient, protective. You feel open and exposed and you can’t quite stop yourself from asking, “Can you sleep up here tonight?”

You don’t think you’d be able to sleep by yourself, and it’s silly and stupid and you feel like a child for asking as much, but Weiss only blinks at you, frowns a little more, before giving a short nod and beginning to pull herself up. You scoot closer to the wall, the back of your heel touching it, and for some reason, you jerk away and you turn to look, expecting living flesh- but it’s just white stone.

You relax.

The bed shifts, creaking quietly as she sits down beside you, reaching over to fix the blankets you had torn off earlier and motioning for you to lie down first. With your heart in your throat, you do so hesitantly, your head hitting the edge of the soft pillow to make space for Weiss and hers joining you only after she’s spread the blanket between the two of you. It feels like you two have done this a thousand times, which probably wouldn’t be too far from the truth because you both used to get nightmares back at Beacon.

Weiss lies right beside you, on her side to face you, and the tempo of your heart begins to calm with her like this. Matching the song her heart made, and you can’t help the smile that pulls at your lips. You were safe. It was just a dream.

It was just a dream.

“Thanks, Weiss,” you say just to cling onto consciousness for as long as possible- because the thought of closing your eyes again frightens you for a reason unbeknownst and you find yourself inching closer to her on reflex. One of your hands reaches out to brush a strand of her hair behind her ear, her eyes holding yours steadily, your fingers resting against her cheek and making you want to cry because _this is real_. You are safe.

“Of course,” she responds with the same whisper-secret tone that you had, bringing her own hand hesitantly to rest against your hip and pull you closer, guiding you so you can rest your head near her chest and hear her heartbeat. Her fingers leave trembles where they brush against your back, and one spot, in particular, makes you grimace. She doesn’t notice; whispering, urging, soothing, “Go to sleep.”

“I’m afraid,” you find yourself saying before you can stop the words from flying free of their prison in your mind, your arms tightening around her like she’ll save you from falling even though there’s nowhere for you to fall here, and your ear pressing harder against her chest as if that alone would increase the volume of her heartbeat. It’s a soothing lullaby, so sweet and beautiful like her voice. “It was a really scary dream.”

“It was just a dream,” Weiss whispers against the top of your head, fingers digging in tighter like dull claws. You find comfort in her grip. “Just a dream, Ruby.”

Despite yourself, you feel sleep coming to drag you down again, and you let out a final shuddering breath before closing your eyes, drifting away to the sound of her heartbeat. Her words echoing in your ears like whispers...

_Just a dream._

_Just a dream…_

_Just a…_

_...dream..._

**_…_ **

You wake up choking, lines burning across your back and the stab wound throbbing as if it was just freshly made.

You wake up-

In the room made of living walls. The glowing crystals. The living shadows and the singing cauldron and you are trapped trapped trapped.

_Oh._

You weren’t back at Atlas.

You were here, in Salem’s realm, captured by the devil.

Alone.

(“ _It was just a dream, Ruby_.”)

The shadows _cackle_ around you and don’t even bother to try and hide when you lift your eyes to them as they dance across the ceiling. All around the room, their howling guffaws and tinkling giggles threaten to burst out your eardrums and you drop the bullets on the ground, clutching at your head to get them to stop.

That was too cruel. Too cruel, too cruel, _too_ _cruel_ and the shadows are laughing _louder_ and the cauldron is _shouting_ your name and-

"Shut _up_!”

Your chest burns where your light hides and you feel like reaching into yourself to drag it out by force and dispel this _annoying_ darkness around you. But it’s unnecessary, because the shadows- to your surprise- do indeed stop, flitting away to hide from _you,_ and that thought both satisfies and worries you.

It takes you longer than it really should to realize that you’re hyperventilating, panting breathlessly with one hand pressed unforgivingly against your stab wound, and you notice hot tears are running down your cheeks. You swallow thickly, sniffling as you lean against the crystal and rub them away with a harsh swipe of your hands. Your body is shaking and you think you feel sick and now you have _no_ _idea_ what time it is at all.

...So, sleep was a no-go if _that’s_ what this room did to your dreams.

(You don’t know how long you could survive without sleep, but right now, it seems like the better option because you’re not sure how much your heart could handle something like that again.)

You hate this place already and you _think_ it’s only been a day, not even a full day at that.

You reach for your aura and find that it’s still gone. _Shit_!

You reach for the bullets you dropped and clench onto them tightly, curling into yourself with your back to the crystal and your eyes on the ground because you can’t stand the cauldron right now.

Weiss had felt so real.

Not just physically; but the way she looked at you, the way she spoke, the way she held you.

(You’ll realize later, when the wound isn’t so fresh it’s got your heart in a death grip that's crushing the life out of you, that she never truly answered your question.

She never said it was real.)

You were intending to last as long as you could, had believed that you would be able to _last_ , but now- now that you had a taste of what you were truly up against… 

You’re not very hopeful. 

Not just Salem, not just her magic, but this room in general. This room was cursed, there was no doubt about it, and the shadows- _gods_ the shadows.

Someone needs to save you soon or you need to buckle down and find a way out.

Because if it was going to go and do things like _that_.

...You don’t think you could last very long…


End file.
